I don’t fall at all.
I’m practical and spend all my time doing mom things.
I don’t get giddy over a guy buying me a stuffed animal.
Jackson is oblivious to the invisible boundary I’m trying to draw. He leans down, almost brushing his lips against my ear, and says so softly at a candle-blowing out level—“A butterfly because that’s what you give me.”
My eyes slam shut, and I scream in my head, trying to silence his words but I heard them all.
Somebody put this guy in a penalty box.
The last thing I need is for some dude to play me. Even though I pride myself on putting up a thick shield, I’m quite fragile underneath. Flirting, even a little, isn’t helping my shield. I once again step aside, asserting my position away from him.
We move along the line, and I focus on Bella until we get to the heart station. I’ve never seen this before, but apparently you pick a heart to place inside the stuffed animal. Jackson’s eyebrows pitch in anticipation as he looks from Rigsby to Bella, and says, “You have to make a wish on your heart. It’s part of the ceremony.”
The kids both go right up, and whisper into their little plastic hearts before stuffing them into their animals. My heart aches as I watch Bella so easily excited about this. She’s glowing, and I know she’ll talk about this part for a long time. I start to follow them to the final station, but Jackson stops me, “Kaci, you forgot your heart.” When I risk a look in his direction, I see he’s taken it upon himself to grab a heart, and he’s holding it out to me. “You have to make a wish before it goes in the butterfly.”
“What are my options?” I wince. I meant it sarcastically—to hint that I don’t have much luck—but I didn’t intend to ask for his advice. Maybe he’ll drop it?
Not my luck.
“Go big.” He swallows, marking another thought before he adds, “What is your biggest dream?”
“Um, just to finally graduate from college and get a teaching job. Have a normal schedule for Bella.”
“Bigger,” he whispers, his gaze spiraling at me.
A laugh cracks out of me. “It’s taken me eight years to get through college. What is bigger than that?”
“That’s logistical stuff about life. Look at this just once.” He extends his hand, trying to get me to take that stupid plastic heart. I glare at it. This must be some sort of line or setup. He asks, “What does your heart want?”
This is so completely insane.
He’s holding my little plastic heart in his hands, but it might as well be mine—the way it feels it’s chipping away at a wall around my own. The way he’s looking at me, with his gaze so intensely focused on me like he might actually care what I have to say, a shiver runs right through me.
“To be happy,” I say, raising then lowering my shoulder. There is no way I’m going to even think about anything else—let alone tell him, a stranger just ten hours ago, what my heart desires in any detail.
Even if I knew myself.
He holds up the heart, pressing it almost against the tip of my nose. “Once it’s sealed in the butterfly, it can never change.”
Another chuckle bubbles to the surface, this one nervous. I’ve never had someone talk to me like this. His eyes are even smiling, yet appear serious as if warning me not to take this silly tradition lightly. “I mean, obviously there are things I want, but I’m not going to say them out loud.”
“If you can’t be honest with me, at least be honest with your heart.” He pushes the heart toward me. I open my palm just in time to receive it, and his fingers brush against my skin. He pulls away, but all I can think about is how I want to touch him again.
What is wrong with me?
Get it together. Kaci.
What would I wish for anyway?
To be his wife. Ope! Where did that come from?
That was clearly left over from his comment earlier.
It doesn’t mean anything.
It can’t mean anything.
